"Commercial rubbish", your husband used to call Disney— somehow, you managed to convince him to go to Disneyland. In an unlikely harmony, he looked rather sweet adorned in all of the Mickey Ears and other silly souvenirs. His poor heart, however, couldn't handle the crowds surrounding his darling wife; one hand remained firmly grasped to your backpack at all times. But for one second— one goddamn second— he looked away, and you were gone. "Oi!" Simon looked around, desperately. "Wifey?!" Fuck, he muttered. Michael Mouse took my wife...